Harry Potter and the Runaway Slytherin
by Azka
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Draco leaves home when his father threatens to kill him. He ends up in muggle London where he is forced to rely on Harry Potter to help keep him safe. WIP. Slash HPDM.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copywrited to J. K. Rowling. All of the characters in it are hers.

A/N: This is my first story. Please read/review to let me know what you think or how I can improve.

CHAPTER ONE

Draco Malfoy sighed unhappily as he downed his third mead and ordered another. He knew getting drunk wouldn't help, but tonight he didn't care about self-control or restraint. The Malfoys had always prided themselves on their willpower, their ability to not give in to baser temptations, to not put themselves in what could become a compromising position, and to know when immediate personal sacrifices were necessary for their long run goals. But tonight, Draco didn't give a shit about the famous Malfoy family self-control.

Another half an hour, and Draco had decided he was drunk enough. The blond gave a cursory check of the bills in his pocket before stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron and into muggle London.

The day before, Draco been kicked out of Malfoy Manor by a very enraged Lucius. Draco's father had escaped Azkaban and returned home to start up a new band of Death Eaters, who he expected his son to join. Draco had refused.

In the middle of seventh year, several Death Eaters had kidnapped Harry Potter during a Hogsmead weekend. From the stories circulating the school, Draco knew they put the boy under Imperious and brought him immediately to the Dark Lord's lair. But the hero of the wizarding world had once again lived up to his name of the Boy Who Lived.

Draco knew that the infuriating boy hero had ingeniously pretended to be submissive to the Imperious curse while actually maintaining control of his own mind. The Dark Lord had apparently thought it would be ironic for Harry Potter to be the means of his own destruction and had ordered the boy to carry over to him a cursed sword he had procured for the purpose of killing the boy. Instead of handing over the sword, however, the Gryffindor had thrust it into the chest of a very shocked Voldemort. With instincts swifter than the stunned Dark Lord's, the amazing Potter had then followed up with an Avada Kedavra. The terrified Death Eaters had fled and Potter was thrust once again into the limelight as savior of the world.  
  
The events had been announced during dinner in the Great Hall. Draco hadn't been at the meal, but the Slytherins who had been there left their food to rush and tell him the news.

"Stupid fucking Potter," Draco had cursed in outrage. "Why won't he just die already?"

His housemates threw in a few heated curses of their own. Death Eaters across the country were turning each other in as they heard the news, each hoping to sell out a few friends in return for freedom.

Half of Slytherin had parents in Azkaban by the end of the month, and Harry Potter found himself dodging curses daily. Draco had sent the stupid git to the infirmary for two days with a very wicked that made Potter's face puff up to such proportions that the boy could hardly see from beyond his swollen eyelids. Draco had been quite proud of that curse indeed.

Draco's father had been in prison since the end of fifth year, and now his mother had joined him there as well. All thanks to bloody Potter.

Still, Draco had to concede the timing had been fortuitous. He himself had not actually wanted to join the Dark Lord's legion of supporters. Draco wanted his life to be his own, he wanted to try out for professional Quidditch or at least get a high-paying executive job in some magical company. And he didn't want Voldemort's incessant demands to interfere with his own quest for power and riches.

But Lucius had always intended for Draco to join the Death Eaters as soon as he graduated from Hogwarts. Draco had never gotten around to telling his father he had no intentions of being subservient to any wrinkling old wizard who should have died years ago. At least Potter, the stupid savior of the wizarding world, had managed to save Draco from one thing -having to chose between disobedience and unhappiness.

Or so it had seemed at the time.

But just five months after graduation, there was Lucius miraculously standing in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor as Draco sipped his morning coffee.

The younger Malfoy had choked on his breakfast.

"Father? What are you doing here?"

"Son, our Lord is dead. But we can carry on his mission, we can save the world from mudbloods and muggles. I am building an army of Death Eaters. We can grab the power he dreamed about and make his vision of a pureblood wizarding world a reality!"

Lucius had grandly explained an elaborate scheme to take over where Voldemort had left off and to make himself the new Dark Lord who would bring about a mudblood-free society.

It seemed to Draco that his father's time in Azkaban had made him quite insane.

"Father, I have a _life_ now," Draco had exclaimed in a tone filled with more hostility and anger then he would have ever dared to use against his father in the past.

"The war is over," he continued. "You lost. And I'm not about the throw away my future on the same mistake _you_ made. _I_ don't intend to waste away in that hell of a prison so someone else can rise to power on my misfortune."

"You listen to me carefully, boy." Lucius voice was cold, even, and deadly serious. "If you disobey me, I will destroy you. So straighten up your priorities right now because I already have over a hundred wizards who have pledged their loyalty to me and you cannot oppose us all. But if you apologize now, maybe I'll be merciful."

"No."

When Lucius realized his son would not be joining him on his quest for world domination, the older man had starting throwing curses at his son. Draco didn't know if it was because his father's magic was rusty after so many years in prison or if it was because the stolen wand he clutched was maliciously acting up, but there was no result when Lucius pointed the wand at his son and coldly said, "_Crucio_."

"_Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus!_" Draco had said sharply as he pointed his own wand at his father. Lucius had fallen, immobile, to the floor. Draco had left the manor without so much as bothering to change out of his red silk pajamas.

Arriving at Diagon Alley that same afternoon, Draco had ignored the quizzical looks of the witches and wizards who were sizing up his sleepwear. Draco was rather glad he wasn't the kind of person who slept in nothing but his boxers. Now that would be embarrassing.

Draco had only a small amount of money in his personal Gringotts account, the Malfoy fortune still residing in a vault under his father's name. Draco had emptied his own account, bought some clothes, and found a comfortable wizard hotel.

Scanning the newspaper, Draco had realized that his father had not broken out of jail alone, but had escaped with seven other inmates. He'd met them all before. They were the kind of subservient sycophants who would be obnoxiously loyal to his father. And he knew that none of them would hesitate to turn him over to his father. If caught, he was sure to suffer the Cruciatius curse or even death.

And who knew how many other uncaught Death Eaters had also sworn an allegiance to Lucius? He had mentioned gathering an army. And there must have been people on the outside to help him escape Azkaban.

They could be anywhere. They could be anyone.

Draco Malfoy was not safe in the wizarding world. He had only one choice to be safe and stay out of their reach – he would have to live among the muggles.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and its characters are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling. I do not own the characters in this story.  
  
A/N: Please R&R  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
  
Draco Malfoy stumbled drunkenly into a bed-and-breakfast on the outskirts of London.  
  
"You have a room available?" he asked, looking around. His sneer of disgust at the overly quaint furnishings was luckily dulled by the effects of the alcohol. He'd have nowhere to sleep tonight if this place didn't board him.  
  
"I shouldn't have waited so late at night to find a place," he quietly berated himself for procrastinating the unpleasant task of finding lodgings in a muggle city.  
  
"Yes, one room left," the serious older lady replied, surveying him critically.  
  
Draco nervously hoped there wasn't anything wrong with the muggle outfit he had picked out. He had stuck to simple jeans and an understated black sweater. They clung to the curves of his body in a way he felt made him look actually quite attractive. Loose wizarding robes really showed off nothing of his fine figure.  
  
"This way, then," the brunette lady stated, leading him down a tall. Her tight, professional bun reminding him of that annoying McGonagall, and Draco leered at her behind her back.  
  
"How long will you be staying," she asked in a polite yet distant voice.  
  
"A week."  
  
Draco had figured a week in one place would be long enough. As long as he suspected his father's followers might be tracking him, it was better not to stay in any one place too place.  
  
She told him the price and he fumbled with his muggle money before handing over what he hoped was the correct amount. He must have counted right because the woman gave a polite smile and shut the door as she left.  
  
A small cherry wood dresser stood along one wall, and Draco unpacked the two changes of muggle clothes he had, leaving three new robes in his small bag. He would have to buy more clothes the next day. If he wanted to blend in with the muggles he needed more than three muggle outfits to seem authentic. With a twinge, Draco realized he would also need a muggle job to get the money to pay for said muggle clothes.  
  
"Dammit," he muttered. "How the hell am I supposed to find a muggle job with no job history or references?" He couldn't exactly tell his future employer that he had been the district manager of a potions manufacturing corporation. And he didn't think the muggles would be too impressed to know the Chudley Cannons had given him a callback to tryout as a second string seeker.  
  
He would have to fabricate a muggle background to explain why he was in London with no history of employment. And while he was at it, he realized he'd probably be safest creating a whole new muggle identity, complete with a less unusual name.  
  
"Drake Atwood," he mumbled some minutes later and decided the name would have to do. He had chose Drake because it was similar to his own first name, and he'd picked Atwood only because it happened to be the last name of the author of some muggle book lying in his new room.  
  
Satisfied with this small bit of progressive, Draco climbed exhaustedly into bed. Tomorrow Drake Atwood would have to find himself a job.

* * *

Five months ago, Harry Potter had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For the last two years, he had planned on becoming an Auror, and with his N.E.W.T.'s he probably had a good chance of getting the job. But at the last minute, he decided not to apply.  
  
For eleven years, Harry had been an absolute nobody when one day he was suddenly thrust into the limelight. The incessant attentions of wizards such as Colin Creevy had been an unwanted nuisance to Harry. But the attention he received his first six and a half years in the wizarding world was exceedingly modest compared to the lavish interest people started paying him after Voldemort was officially dead.  
  
Some new story about the Boy Who Lived headlined the newspapers nearly every day, and Harry was thoroughly sick of it. So after graduation he decided to escape publicity by moving back into the muggle world for a little while.  
  
Ron and Hermione had accompanied him on a last trip to Diagon Alley before Harry would say goodbye, at least for awhile, to his life as a wizard. Their trip to Diagon Alley had been a tense affair because Hermione and Ron had recently broken up from a year-long relationship. They were civil but nothing more, and Harry was regretting spending the day with them together.  
  
"Well, I guess that's that," Harry said as a lull settled into their conversation.  
  
"Yeah," Ron said sadly.  
  
He popped a piece of candy into his mouth as the three of them stepped from Diagon Alley into the Leaky Cauldron. Ron and Hermione would be leaving the pub the way they had come in, but Harry would be going out a separate exit, one leading into muggle London.  
  
"I'll miss you both," Harry said. "You've seen the flat I bought in London, so you've got no excuse to not visit me."  
  
"We'll visit," Hermione promised, squeezing Harry into a tight hug.  
  
Ron awkward shook Harry's hand and slapped him on the back. "Bye, mate."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Harry pushed open the door and found himself on a bustling London street. Not far from here, there was a coffee shop called Merlin's where Harry had been hired. The job was not glamorous or exciting, but he had wanting something low key and low pressure and this was certainly it.  
  
Harry walked passed the coffee shop on his way home to his new flat and smiled. He'd originally noticed the shop because in one window stood a large cardboard cutout of the muggle idea of what a wizard looked like. The inside was supposed to decorated to look like a wizard's house. Harry was pleased with the irony that he had left the wizarding world to work in a muggle coffee shop that tried to create a fantasy world of magic.  
  
During his five months at Merlin's, Harry had realized that he was not the only wizard who enjoyed the irony of a muggle establishment attempting to create the magical world. Several witches and wizards had stepped into the cafe to order a cup of coffee and a pastry, and Harry was exceedingly grateful that they had so far all been very discreet. They gave him knowing winks and smiles, but none of them had been too suspicious acting. And thankfully none of them seem to have tipped off the wizard press to his current place of employment either.  
  
Harry always received a certain comfort when he spotted a, usually muggle- born, witch or wizard enter the door of Merlin's. Even though he was cutting himself off from the magical world for awhile, these surprising reminders of its existence were nice. And Harry had been promoted to store manager so he didn't feel quite so stupid when people recognized him and wanted to know what the Boy Who Lived was doing serving them an eclair.  
  
Yes, Harry had always been pleased to see the occasional wizard enter the shop, and he was no longer startled when he found himself face-to-face with an unexpected visitor from his other life. But no amount of wizards from his past could prepare him for the day he glanced up and found himself looking into the pale face and startled grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and its characters are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling. I do not own the characters in this story.  
  
A/N: Please R&R  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
  
That morning, Draco had donned a baby sweater and dressy black pants. He looked confident and professional without seeming over-serious. Hopefully this was a look some muggle company would be willing to hire.  
  
Draco set out, aimlessly wandering the early morning streets and scrutinizing the stores as he passed. He saw a tiny little second-hand store, a noisy pet shop, and a toy store thronged with small children. Such vulgar places, all of them. A Malfoy was better than this; a Malfoy would never work in such wretched little stores.  
  
After another half-hour of slow walking, Draco found himself on a busy London street standing outside of the Leaky Cauldron. He had unconsciously led himself to the only place in London where he felt he belonged.  
  
"Draco, what are you doing?" he muttered softly to himself in a chastising tone. "Suck it up and apply somewhere. Nothing's ever going to be good enough at this rate."  
  
Resolutely, Draco marched down the block and into a cheerful red and blue shop called Gadgets Extreme.  
  
"I'd like to apply for a job," he announced airily to the sales clerk.  
  
"I'm the manager, I do the hiring." A lady in her thirties stepped over to him. "Here's the application," and she handed over a white form.  
  
"We specialize in CD players," she informed him. "Selling and repairing. Are you familiar with the workings of the major brands?"  
  
_Huh? CD players? What the hell are those?_ Draco thought, looking around the store for the first time. It was filled with black and silver contraption. He had no idea what they were.  
  
"Nevermind." Draco shoved the empty application back at the manager and rushed ungracefully from the store.  
  
_Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should have known_, he berated himself angrily. He couldn't apply at a store that sold stuff only muggles used. He didn't know what any of it was.  
  
Draco stormed down the street with a deep scowl. Cheerful signs in every store mocked him. "Vacuums Half-Off!", "100 Types of Press-On Nails!", "Name Brand Computers!", "Smallest Ever Camcorders!", "A Magical Wizard World!"  
  
Draco stopped dead in his tracks. _What the hell? A Magical Wizard World?  
_  
He was staring at the entrance of a muggle shop decorated with a ridiculous looking cardboard cutout of a long-bearded old man wearing blue robes decorated with silver stars. _So tacky._  
  
As Draco looked through the large windows of the shop, he wanted to laugh. The glowing candles and fabric-draped walls made him think of the make-me- puke trying-too-hard overly-mystical decorations of Trewlaney's classroom back at Hogwarts.  
  
"Muggles," he muttered to himself. "What idiots."  
  
Still, the store seemed to be some kind of dessert and coffee shop. And those were things Draco knew about. Espresso and latte, pie and eclair, those items were common ground to muggles and wizards. With a new burst of enthusiasm, Draco decided that this would be a good place to apply.  
  
"Don't act like an idiot this time," he quietly ordered himself as he walked inside- and gaped liked a moron.  
  
Harry Potter- _Harry Potter_- the fucking Boy Who Lived of all people- was standing there gapping back at him.

* * *

Harry desperately attempted to regain his composure.  
  
_Malfoy! This is it. My cover's blown, he thought ruefully. Malfoy will tell them I'm a wizard and they'll fire me and – No. Surely not even Malfoy would be idiot enough to tell a room full of muggles that there were wizards amoung him. He'll probably just tell the Daily Prophet. Which amounts to the same thing. Either way, I'm screwed._  
  
Harry watched dumbly as his nemesis strode irately across the room and stopped inches in front of him.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Malfoy hissed with venom.  
  
"I work here," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even.  
  
"Working in this dump, Potter?" Malfoy drawled. "How the mighty have fallen."  
  
Harry shot him a dirty look. "Well, what are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?"  
  
The blond sneered and opened his mouth to respond. But he seemed to think better of answering because he hastily slammed his mouth shut and glared at the boy in front of him.  
  
Malfoy's unexpected silence filled Harry with new confidence.  
  
"Well?" he prodded. "Why are you here?"  
  
"Mind your own business, Potter. I can be here if I want."  
  
"Actually, no. I'm the manager here. And if you don't intend to buy anything, I'll have to ask you to leave."  
  
Harry was shocked as Malfoy turned on his heel, apparently intending to carry out Harry's request. But as the blond passed through the doors, Harry again realized that Malfoy was probably intending to sell him out to the highest bidding wizard newspaper.  
  
"Malfoy! Wait!" Harry hurried to catch up with the retreating blond, reaching him just outside the store.  
  
"Look, Malfoy," he said nervously, "are you uh planning on telling anyone you saw me here today?"  
  
"And admit a Malfoy dirtied his shoe with the filth of a muggle establishment?" Draco sneered.  
  
Harry was stumped. His rival made a good point. Malfoys did not wander around muggle neighborhoods for any reason. _I wonder what he's up to_, Harry thought.  
  
"Alright," Harry said slowly. "I'll make a deal with you. I won't tell anyone that you 'dirtied yourself with a muggle establishment' as you say, if you don't tell anyone that you ever saw me here."  
  
"You don't want anyone to know that you're here?" Malfoy asked with surprised smirk.  
  
Harry nervously countered, "I don't. But you can't tell them I work here without admitting you were here too."  
  
Malfoy responded with a wicked little I-have-a-plan sneer. Harry could tell he was carefully putting the pieces of a plot together in his head.  
  
"You said you're the manager, right?"  
  
Harry nervously had to agree that he was.  
  
"Great," Malfoy said triumphantly. "I won't let anyone know where you work, but I'll tell you what I want in exchange."  
  
Harry sighed. Malfoy could ask for almost anything and Harry would carry through. He just wasn't ready to give up this pleasant little retreat from the wizard world. Although he didn't know how pleasant life would continue to be with Malfoy blackmailing him.  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry growled. He'd decide what to do when he heard Malfoy's offer.  
  
"A job."  
  
"What?" Harry asked incredulously.  
  
"You heard me," Malfoy snapped. "Look, Potter, I'm in this stupid muggle hellhole for the same reason you are- I need to hide from the magical world for awhile. That means I need muggle money. And you're going to give me a way to get it. Because if I'm going done, you sure as hell are coming with me."  
  
Harry was still suspicious. "What are you hiding from?"  
  
"Are you going to give me a job?" Malfoy countered.  
  
Harry felt the balance of power shift back to himself. Malfoy seemed more desperate to remain hidden than he did. So Harry still had some leverage in this situation.  
  
"I'll give you the job if you tell me what you're running from," Harry said. "But otherwise, no. If you're fleeing to muggle London for a job, then this is something big. I deserve to know what you're running from, what you did that I'm letting you hide from."  
  
"I didn't do anything," Malfoy raged. "And you have no right to ask about my life. I don't owe you anything!"  
  
"If you did something bad - if you're some kind of fugitive – and you want me to help you escape justice then you _do_ owe me. I have a right to know what you did that I'm letting you escape justice from!"  
  
Harry realized he was shouting and silently ordered himself to calm down. Even though he was outside Merlin's, if he got any louder his employees inside would be able to hear this fight. Draco seemed to have the same idea about privacy because he lowered his voice as he responded.  
  
"Look, Potter, I really haven't done anything wrong. Just give me the damn job."  
  
"Just tell me, Malfoy," Harry responded calmly. He could see his opponent was weakening.  
  
"Fine," Malfoy snapped, but he didn't volunteer anything further.  
  
Harry waited patiently as the defeated boy in front of him worked up the resolve to speak.  
  
"My father broke out of Azkaban," Malfoy began.  
  
Harry's eyes opened wide with shock. "What? How?"  
  
"I don't know," Malfoy snapped. "It's not important. The point is, he did it. He's out. And he's building up an army to take over where You-Know- Who left off. He wants to take over the world, and he asked me to help him. He said if I refused, he'd come after me with his 'army' and 'destroy' me. But I refused anyway. And now I have to hide because I don't know who the hell he could have ordered to come after me. So I'm stuck here, in stupid muggle London, so I don't accidentally run into my darling father's army of assassins."  
  
"Oh," Harry said stupidly.  
  
"Yeah-'Oh'," Draco mocked snidely. "I'm being hunted by a dark wizard who plans to kill me and then take over the world with his army of faithful minions. Do you have any idea what I'm going through?"  
  
"I can imagine," Harry said dryly.  
  
Malfoy shot him a startled look, the dawn of his slow realization showing plainly on his face.  
  
"I understand, Malfoy. I know how scared you must be."  
  
"I'm not scared!" The blond protested heatedly.  
  
Harry ignored him. "I'll hire you, you just have to never forget to act like a muggle at work."  
  
"I won't forget. I'm not stupid, Potter."  
  
Harry uneasily shot him an appeasing smile. "Right. Sorry. Come on inside and we'll fill out the paperwork."  
  
Harry led the way into a back office where he pulled the job application out for Malfoy. The boy hunched over the paper silently for a minute before looking up uneasily.  
  
"Yes?" asked Harry suspiciously.  
  
"Do I need to write an address?" Malfoy indicated the section asking for his home address and phone number.  
  
"Yeah. Why?"  
  
"I don't really have one. I thought I'd just kinda, you know, move between hotels and stuff. Make it harder for my father to track me."  
  
"Why don't you just buy a house and put unplottable wards on it?" Harry asked reasonably.  
  
Malfoy scowled. "I don't know how to do that," he muttered.  
  
Harry knew how difficult it must have been for his rival to make that confession. In an act of good will, he made his own small confession just to make Malfoy feel a little better.  
  
"I don't actually know how to do it, either," he admitted. "It was actually Dumbledore who cast the spell for me on my apartment. It's really complicated but extremely powerful. It's the same spell that makes Hogwarts unplottable. And I'm sure I'm safe from anyone trying to trace me back home. There's no way anyone could break this spell."  
  
"Well good for you, Potter," Malfoy muttered sarcastically. "I'm just so glad you're all safe and cozy back at home."  
  
Oops. Harry had only made the unhappy blond feel even worse.  
  
"I mean, I can get Dumbledore to cast the spell for you if you get an apartment," he offered.  
  
"No!" Malfoy responded sharply. "I don't want him knowing I'm here. I don't want anyone knowing. That's part of the deal. You tell no one about me."  
  
Grey eyes surveyed Harry maliciously. "You tell no one, okay? Not even the Weasel and the mudblood."  
  
Harry winced at the cold nicknames, but reluctantly agreed. He knew that he could never convince his enemy of seven years to trust any of his friends to keep a vow of secrecy.  
  
"Well, you still need an address," Harry said as he averted his eyes from the Slytherin's suspicious gaze.  
  
"That's fine," Malfoy returned silkily. "It turns out I do have an address after all."  
  
Harry was confused. "You said you were living in a hotel."  
  
"Oh I was. But I very recently discovered a secure little location where I can hide away from anyone out to get me."  
  
"Great," Harry said. "Where are you staying?"  
  
"Your apartment." 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and its characters are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling. I do not own the characters in this story.  
  
A/N: Please R&R  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
  
Draco smirked amusedly as his rival spluttered and looked at him in disbelief.  
  
"You want to live with me?" the Gryffindor exclaimed incredulously.  
  
"Of course not," Draco said smoothly. "But I have nowhere else to stay. And as you've already pointed out, your lodgings are very secure indeed."  
  
Draco was pleased to see the dark-haired boy grimace and give a low growl of disgust. It seemed that annoying his longtime foe would be a pleasant bonus of the new living situation.  
  
"You're lucky I have a spare bedroom, Malfoy" the boy finally replied.  
  
"Atwood."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Atwood. As a security measure, I decided to change my name. Just in case."  
  
"Atwood Malfoy? That's a stupid name," Potter responded with an infuriating grin at the new moniker.  
  
"That is a stupid name," Draco agreed with a withering glare. "Which is why my name is actually Drake Atwood. Atwood's the last name, Potter."  
  
"Harry," responded the brunette with a smirk of his own.  
  
"Drake," Draco repeatedly firmly. "I'm not going to name myself after you, idiot." _Really, what kind of fool was this Potter boy? No common sense at all._  
  
But Harry shook his head and his green eyes glimmered delightedly. Draco got the uneasy feeling that he was missing something.  
  
"You have to call me Harry," the boy explained. "People are going to know we're living in the same apartment when they see my address on your application. We'll have to pretend to be friends. I'll tell everyone you're new in town and staying with me until you get back on your feet."  
  
"You'll do no such thing!" Draco haughtily exclaimed. "Don't you dare imply to my co-workers that I need the help of a half-breed like you to get back on my feet. You give them some other reason for me to be staying with you."  
  
"That's the only reason I can think of," Potter responded innocently. "So it will have to do."  
  
Draco was infuriated. He was supposed to be one-upping Potter with this living situation, not the other way around. Potter was supposed to be annoyed and Draco was absolutely NOT supposed to look like some loser who had to crash with a friend because he couldn't make it on his own.  
  
"Come on, Drake, old pal, I'll introduce you around," the brunette said gaily, leading the way out of his small office.  
  
"Like hell," Draco muttered to himself.  
  
"Everyone, this is my friend Drake Atwood," Potter announced to three scruffy-looking kids, two male and one female, working behind the counter. "He just moved to town and he's going to be working here for a bit while he stays with me."  
  
The three shabby-looking employees gave Draco sympathetic looks. _He can't get himself a job or a place to stay_, their looks seemed to taunt. _He has to rely on the Golden Boy to rescue him from himself._  
  
"Like hell," Draco repeated himself. "Tell them the truth now."  
  
"What truth?" that damnable Potter asked with phony innocence. "You are staying with me."  
  
Draco didn't know what to say to make those idiots stop looking at him like he was a piece of trash. There had to be a damn good reason for him to staying with Potter that had nothing to do with getting a handout for the Gryffindor golden boy. And Draco had better think of that fast.  
  
"Yes but you forgot to tell them why," Draco said, sliding daintily over towards a wary Potter. "You made it seem like I'm sponging off of you or something."  
  
Draco allowed a delicate frown to crease his face. He hoped those kids could read the hurt and mistreatment he was squeezing into his expression.  
  
"Well you-" Harry began, but Draco cut him off by placing one of his fingers over Potter's pursed lips. Draco had a plan, a way to redeem himself in front of these useless kids and to make that idiot Gryffindor exceptionally uncomfortable at the same time. All the plan called for was some exceptional acting on the part of Draco. And that would be no problem for this master of insincerity and deceit.  
  
"We both know that I'm really staying with you because you asked me to," Draco said, slowly removing his finger from Potter's lips and placing his own mouth delicately to the brunette's cheeks. "Sweetie," he added.  
  
"What?!?!" the green-eyed boy was beyond livid. "Don't call me sweetie! What the hell are you playing?! I'm not your boyfriend! Yuck!"  
  
"Oh my goodness!" Draco opened his eyes and clasped a hand over his mouth. He knew the kids were buying his guild and shock.  
  
"Are you telling me you're not out at work yet?" he demanded. "Are you so embarrassed by my gender that you won't admit to loving me?"  
  
Draco crinkled his eyes up and willed the tears to fall. This was a neat little trick his father had taught him. People were so much easier to manipulate when your face was streaked with tears.  
  
"No!" Potter exploded. "I'm not gay! Don't go telling these people a load of nonsense like that!"  
  
Draco pushed the tears out harder and added some sniffling sounds for effect. His audience had extended to include the ten or so patrons in the cafe at the moment. Well, Draco Malfoy would be more than happy to give them all a show.  
  
"Harry, it's okay," the girl employee said softly. "We already know."  
  
"What?" Potter stammered stupidly. "Know what?"  
  
_Oh fuck. They know who I am_, Draco thought with panic. _They must be wizards and that idiot Potter didn't even know it, and now they know I'm here and they're going to turn me over to my father._  
  
The room was clouded with silence. Draco struggled to breath against the desperate beating of his own heart. And he could tell that moronic Gryffindor still had no clue what was going on.  
  
"Know what?" Potter demanded again.  
  
The girl looked nervous. "Harry, you don't need to lie to us about your boyfriend. We already know that you're gay."  
  
The look on Potter's face was so mortified that Draco snorted in laughter.  
  
Harry Potter gay? This was too good.  
  
"See, Sweetie?" he demanded. "They already know you're gay."  
  
"But-"  
  
"No use in denying it now," Draco teased, regaining his composure and silently rebuking himself for ever thinking this scruffy bunch of misfits would have any dealings whatsoever with a powerful wizard like his father.  
  
"They know you're gay," Draco drawled. "And as a homosexual, it makes sense for you to have a boyfriend. And that boyfriend is me."  
  
Potter was too upset to speak. Draco knew he had won. He had convinced his new co-workers that Harry fucking Potter was his boyfriend. And Potter knew better than to deny things further and possibly raise suspicion about what they were hiding.  
  
Yeck. What people must think of Draco that he would stoop so low as to date this Gryffindor trash. Still, he had aggravated Potter while salvaging at least some dignity in the eyes of his co-workers. And now, to finish things off-  
  
"Come on, darling," Draco cooed sweetly while gagging on the inside. "I'll let you make this up to me back at your place," he gave Potter an elaborate wink that no one in the cafe could possibly miss. "And then you can help me unpack, and we'll make it _our_ place."  
  
Potter looked as though he was about to be ill. Good.  
  
Mission: find some small way to ruin Potter's life. Mission status: success.  
  
Smugly, Draco grabbed his "boyfriend's" hand and led him smartly from the store.  
  
"Score for Slytherin," he gleefully whispered.


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and its characters are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling. I do not own the characters in this story.  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
  
"Is this it?" Draco scowled unhappily as he looked around the small apartment that had just become his home.  
  
"What's wrong with it?" Potter asked in an offended tone.  
  
Trust a Gryffindor not to know anything about luxury and easy living.  
  
"Where's my room?" Draco asked. "I'm sick of carrying this stuff." He and his new host had stopped by the bed-and-breakfast to pick up his small wardrobe and personal effects.  
  
Draco's new bedroom was a cozy guest bedroom with welcoming green walls and a large bed covered in comfy pillows.  
  
"Oh gag," Draco commented.  
  
"What?"  
  
"This room is entirely too _pleasant_," he wrinkled his nose at the distasteful word. "How can anyone put this much cheer and comfort in one room? How the hell am I supposed to sleep in here?"  
  
"The welcoming homeliness is just too overwhelming?" Potter kidded.  
  
"Exactly," Draco sneered, and he wasn't joking.  
  
His host shrugged. "Tough. I'm sure you'll learn to live with it."  
  
"Nope," Draco said smugly.  
  
"Nope? You mean you're leaving?" Draco resented the hopefulness in Potter's tone.  
  
"As much as I'd love to leave you to your dreary little life, that's not what I meant. My first paycheck is going toward some serious remodeling."  
  
Draco enjoyed the look of alarm rising in the Gryffindor's eyes. "I'm not gonna let you remodel any part of my house! Live with the room the way it is!"  
  
"I'll live with it after it's had a paintjob and a new bedcover. Some new curtains as well," he mused. "And maybe a few new paintings to replace that hideous scenic print hanging on the wall."  
  
"No way."  
  
"It's my room. What will people think if I have an ivy pattern on my comforter?"  
  
With displeasure Draco noted a certain gleam of mischievous insight in the eyes of his host.  
  
"No one will know about the ivy on your comforter," Potter said slowly, as thought carefully weighing the wisdom of his words. "Because this isn't your room."  
  
"Going to make me sleep on the couch are you, Potter? I would have thought you Gryffindors had more consideration for their guests than that."  
  
"No, Malfoy, you can sleep in here. But you're supposed to be my boyfriend, remember? So everyone will have to think you're sleeping in my bedroom. And it wouldn't make sense for you to change the guest room if you're not living in it, so I guess it'll have to stay the way it is." Potter's smug look infuriated Draco.  
  
"Eww, Potter! You want me to pretend I'm sleeping with you? How perverted." Draco's disgust was almost enough to make him sick.  
  
"Your idea," Potter said simply. "What did you suppose people would think when you said you were my boyfriend living with me? Obviously we have to pretend we sleep together."  
  
_Crap_. Draco hadn't considered this particular repercussion of his actions. He'd have to let people think he was getting nasty with the goody-goody Gryffindor.  
  
"Fine. Go away and let me unpack," he snapped, and his victorious host quietly left the room.

* * *

The next morning Harry woke with a frown as he remembered his uninvited guest. Scowling grumpily, he stumbled into the kitchen where he was greeted by the infuriatingly cheerful face of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Morning, Sweetie," Malfoy drawled cheerfully.  
  
"Don't call me that," Harry snapped.  
  
"You're right. It's too overused. A Malfoy would really be more original than that. So I was actually thinking – Cuddle Butt. A refreshingly unusual pet name."  
  
"Not on your life," Harry ordered swiftly as he saw a malicious leer cover his guest's face.  
  
"But, Cuddle Butt, I just want everyone to know that you're my cuddly wuddly."  
  
"Malfoy, I am not in the mood for this. Now I don't want to hear any of that leave your mouth ever again."  
  
"Alright," Malfoy said much too agreeably.  
  
"Alright?" Harry knew something suspicious was happening.  
  
"Yeah, alright. I have a few other options I've been thinking of," Malfoy said lazily as he refilled his cup with fresh brewed tea.  
  
Harry silently predicted that he wouldn't be liking any of Malfoy's other options better.  
  
"Nuzzly Bear?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Rosy Cheeks?"  
  
"What? No."  
  
"Nutty Butty?"  
  
"Malfoy!"  
  
"Is that a yes?"  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
Malfoy contemplatively returned to his tea and toast. Harry filled with relief when he saw Malfoy was not offering any more pet names.  
  
"Ronny will be by in about ten minutes," Harry commented as he smeared cream cheese over a bagel.  
  
"And who is Ronny?"  
  
"One of the boys from the store. He lives in this building, and we carpool together."  
  
"Shutgun," Malfoy said quickly, and Harry was surprised the wizard knew the muggle term for being the front seat passenger.  
  
"Fine," he muttered grumpily. "Just don't distract me while I'm driving."  
  
"Sugar Buns! I would never do something so dangerous," Malfoy claimed with mock horror.  
  
Harry rejected the unpleasant moniker with a firm shake of the head.  
  
"Rooster Roo?"  
  
"Now that's just stupid."  
  
"Muffin Top? Skunky Pooh? Sugar Drop? Kissy Priss? Tiger Tike?"  
  
"Enough with the pet names!"  
  
Malfoy shrugged, and further discussion was interruption by a knock on the door.  
  
"Come on," Harry snapped, not waiting to see if Malfoy was trailing behind him as he went to open the door.  
  
"Ready to go?" a sandy haired boy inquired, pushing his straight floppy locks off his tiny forehead.  
  
"Munchy Bunchy! Wait for me!" a voice called as Malfoy appeared behind Harry.  
  
Ronny smirked in an maddeningly Malfoy-like manner. Well two could play at this game.  
  
"Nuzzly Bear!" Harry exclaimed, borrowing a nickname Malfoy had suggested earlier. "Of course I wouldn't forget you, my little Schnookie Cookie."  
  
Malfoy pulled a face at Harry's creation of Schnookie Cookie.  
  
"Like the names you made up were any better," Harry muttered to him as they slipped out the door.  
  
"You guys are a really cute couple," Ronny commented cheerfully, falling back to walk with them. "I don't know why Harry ever wanted to deny he was dating such an attractive man."  
  
Harry watched the Slytherin beam delightedly as he grandly offered Ronny a gracious "Why thank you."  
  
"I mean it, Drake. Harry's lucky to have you. He needs someone to put the fun back in his life.  
  
"Oh I fully intend to infuse his life with all the fun he can handle."  
  
Harry didn't quite understand the implications behind that comment, but Malfoy and Ronny grinned as though sharing a private joke.  
  
_Great. My friends love Malfoy. I'm trapped in hell.  
_  
Malfoy leaned over and whispered conspiratorially into Ronny's ear. The two of them burst into delighted peals of laughter.  
  
It took all of Harry's inner strength not to simply kill them both. 


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and its characters are copyrighted to J. K. Rowling. I do not own the characters in this story.

CHAPTER SIX  
  
The next week past quickly, and Harry felt things had gone relatively smoothly with both him and Malfoy on their best behavior as they tried to adjust to the new living situation. The worst part of the arrangement, Harry thought, was the irritating camaraderie developing between Ronny and Malfoy. Second worst was Malfoy's annoying ability to be such a perky morning person. Both of these aggravations were coming into play right now.  
  
"-and then Harry fell flat on his face in the mud!" Malfoy was exclaiming gleefully to Ronny. Harry's houseguest was regaling Ronny with semi-true stories of their school days while Harry bustled to set up the cafe for the day.  
  
"That's not how it happened, Drake," Harry snapped. "You pushed me." Well, that wasn't strictly true either, but he couldn't tell Ronny that Malfoy had cast a tripping spell so this tweaked version of the story would have to suffice.  
  
"Maybe I did," Malfoy conceded, "but there was a time when you acted like an idiot all on your own."  
  
As Malfoy related yet another exaggerated story, Harry headed into his office to look over some invoices from the day before.  
  
"Who the hell ordered all these jumbo straws? And fountain pens?" he muttered as he reached a particular unusual purchase order.  
  
The answer to his question popped threw the door. "Guess what?"  
  
"Malfoy! Did you fill out this order form for 50 fountain pens?" Harry demanded angrily.  
  
"I thought they were reasonably priced. And I really want to see one."  
  
"What? Why? It's just a pen."  
  
"No it's not. It's a fountain pen. I wonder how the muggles do it."  
  
"Do what?" Harry asked warily.  
  
"Put the fountain in the pen. Come on, that's got to involve magic somehow."  
  
"Malfoy! There are no fountains in fountain pens. In fact, there's no water involved at all."  
  
The blond's cheerful face became immediately crestfallen. "They aren't pens with little fountains in them?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"And did you order all these jumbo straws?"  
  
"Those actually are really big straws, right?" Malfoy asked suspiciously.  
  
"Yes. But we have no use for them."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, I'm sure you'll come up with something," Malfoy commented airily. He missed the nasty look Harry shot at him.  
  
Malfoy plopped down on Harry's desk and folded his legs up under himself.  
  
"You're sitting on my purchase orders," Harry growled.  
  
"The jumbo straws can wait, Potter. I have something to say."  
  
"Why do I think I'm not going to like this?" Harry asked guardedly.  
  
"Don't worry. It's nothing bad. Ronny's just going to staying at our place for a couple days."  
  
Harry threw back his chair and stood up so that he towered above the blond perched on his desk. "You invited him to spend the night without asking me first?" he demanded furiously.  
  
"Actually, several nights. And I didn't invite him, he asked. And it's not like I didn't ask you first because I'm telling you now and he doesn't move in until tonight."  
  
"Tonight!"  
  
"His apartment's being renovated. He was supposed to stay with his cousin but she bailed on him at the last minute so I offered our place."  
  
"You offered our place?"  
  
"He asked if he could stay with us, and so I offered. After he asked," Malfoy stated smoothly. Harry didn't believe him for a second.  
  
Malfoy tipped his head back and stared defiantly into Harry's emerald eyes. The brunette reluctantly sat back down.  
  
"That's better," Malfoy said calmly. "Now tell me why it matters. He's your friend, too. I didn't think you'd care."  
  
"Malfoy," Harry began slowly. "Where's he going to sleep?"  
  
The Slytherin shrugged nonchalantly. "The couch?" he offered.  
  
"Why not the guest bedroom?" Harry asked innocently.  
  
Malfoy snorted. "I'm not interested in him like that. He's not shacking up with me."  
  
"But he thinks you're shacking up with me! Which means Ronny's in the guest room and you can sleep with me."  
  
Malfoy smirked at the potential for misinterpretation in those words. Harry noticed the snide expression.  
  
"On the floor," he added. "You're sleeping on the floor."  
  
"Malfoy's do not sleep on the floor. It's bad for the back."  
  
"Tough. This is your own fault. So you'll sleep on the floor."  
  
But Malfoy continued to smirk at him deviously.  
  
"What am I missing?" Harry asked reluctantly.  
  
"Well, remember how the lock on your door is broken?"  
  
Harry glared distrustfully. "No. The locks not broken."  
  
"About that. I guess I forgot to mention it. Potter, I accidentally broke your lock."  
  
This was getting to be too much for Harry. "Malfoy, how the hell do you break a lock?"  
  
"With a muggle hairpin?" the blond offered with all appearances of contriteness.  
  
"Why was there a hairpin in my bedroom lock?"  
  
Malfoy had the good grace to look apologetic. "I saw it in a movie on the muggle television thing you have. Someone opened a lock with a girl's hairpin, and I wanted to try it so I bought a few hairpins and tried to jimmy your lock."  
  
Harry was not pleased. "Why didn't you use your own lock?"  
  
"Well there's really no point for me to be able to break into my own room, now is there?"  
  
The brunette gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. We'll talk about this when we get home. Just tell me what this has to do with Ronny."  
  
Grey eyes immediately regained their cheerful gleam. "You can't make me sleep on the floor because you don't have a lock on the door. What if Ronny sees me there? That'll look suspicious."  
  
"Malfoy, the door still closes."  
  
"He could walk in anyway."  
  
"He won't."  
  
"But he could? Are you one hundred percent sure that he wouldn't?"  
  
Harry had to admit to himself that there was some small possibility this second houseguest might walk into the bedroom unannounced. In which case, he and Malfoy had better be keeping up appearances of going out.  
  
"We could say we were fighting," Harry finally offered.  
  
"And you made me sleep on the floor? How inconsiderate of you. Besides, Ronny knows us well enough to know you'd never push your boyfriend out of bed and I'd never agree to suffer all night on your wooden floor."  
  
"Fine," Harry said dejectedly. "We'll sleep in the bed together. But I swear, if you don't stay on your half..."  
  
"What? No cuddles from my Munchy Bunchy cuddly wuddly?"  
  
"No!"  
  
Draco shrugged and sauntered calmly from the room. Harry let his head fall against the desk and he heaved a tremendous sigh. It was going to be a long night.


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to J. K. Rowling. The characters in this story belong to her.

CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Draco would never admit it, but life with the Boy Who Lived wasn't nearly as insufferable as he would have thought. After meeting the Weasel and the Mudblood, who could have predicted that Potter would have such decent taste in friends? And who could have guessed that, when he wasn't off saving the world, Potter actually knew how to have a good time?  
  
Draco was starting to feel rather bad about enjoying himself. If Draco liked it here, then that meant Potter was doing something nice for him- doing him a favor, you could say. And Draco Malfoy did not accept favors. He had no intention of being indebted to anyone. Which is exactly why Draco was wearing a lacy pink strawberry-print apron.  
  
For the last week, Draco had watched as his host cooked (almost inedible) dinner on the muggle stove. Tonight Draco would cook, and he would make a fabulous meal. He'd create a cuisine masterpiece so good that Potter would swear himself eternally in Draco's debt. Then they would be even.  
  
"Uh, Malfoy? Why the hell are you wearing that apron?"  
  
"It's the only one I could find," the blond replied with a glare. He hadn't been too happy to realize his host had nothing more manly than this. "No wonder people think you're gay."  
  
Potter blushed. _Interesting_.  
  
"...Are you?"  
  
"Am I what?"  
  
"You know. Gay."  
  
"You're the one wearing the lacy pink apron."  
  
Draco was pained. "It's so things don't spill on my clothes, Potter. That's what aprons are for."  
  
Emerald eyes looked blankly back at Draco as though trying to comprehend some impossible mystery.  
  
"I'm cooking dinner," Draco clarified. "We'll eat in a few minutes, and after that Ronny's coming and he's bring some nice wine."  
  
"Oh. But I never drink."  
  
"Yeah, Ronny told me. But I assured him you drink now."  
  
Potter's eyes narrowed angrily. "Well you'll just have to assure him I don't."  
  
"Can't," Draco said distractedly as he carefully measured sugar and flour into a large bowl.  
  
"What do you mean, 'can't'?" Potter asked irritably as he grabbed Draco's arm to attract the blond's attention.  
  
Uh oh. Stupid Potter was getting all upset about nothing. He'd better calm down before he ruined Draco's plan to actually do something nice.  
  
"I mean, he asked about our first date, and I told him all about sitting on the beach at night, nibbling on ladyfingers and delicately sipping champagne. It was so romantic, your opinions on alcohol were changed forever."  
  
Potter let out a furious grunt. "Fine. I can't very well say I don't drink after you've told Ronny all about the romantic champagne that changed my life."  
  
"That's the spirit!" Draco exclaim encouragingly. "Now let's eat while we wait for the cake to finish."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"More wine, Po- Harry?" Draco asked with a malicious smile. He felt the scrumptious dinner had taken him out of his benefactor's debt. That meant he was once again free to annoy the hell out of his rival.  
  
Potter giggled drunkenly and held out his glass. Draco had never seen anyone get drunk so fast on so little. He himself had drank almost three times as much as Potter and was completely sober. He almost kept forgetting to call his host "Harry," but was otherwise perfectly sober.  
  
"Perfectly sober," he affirmed to himself.  
  
Potter – Harry, for tonight – giggled again, and Draco realized he had spoken his thoughts out loud.  
  
"Oops."  
  
Ronny joined in the laughing, spilling part of his drink down his shirt. Harry giggled again, and fell off the couch. He landed on the floor next to Draco.  
  
_Why the hell am I on the floor?_ Draco wondered, noticing his seat for the first time. Perhaps he was a little drunk after all.  
  
"You guys are a cute couple," Ronny commented.  
  
Draco snorted, amused. Ronny shot him a puzzled look.  
  
_Shit. That was suspicious.  
_  
"Thank you," Draco said quickly. "I think so too."  
  
But now Harry laughed in amusement. Ronny still seemed dubious.  
  
"I really like Harry," Draco rushed to tell him. "I like dating him."  
  
_Was Ronny buying this?_  
  
"I like kissing him," Draco added for good measure. "And sex."  
  
_Good. That was very convincing.  
_  
Draco started to relax, but Harry stupidly began to giggle again.  
  
"Kissing. And sex." Harry tittered with silent laugher. "We're sleeping in the same bed. That means sex."  
  
_Dammit. I never should have let that idiot lightweight Gryffindor drink_. Draco silently cursed himself.  
  
"I've never seen you kiss," Ronny observed.  
  
Draco bristled at the implication. Well, there was only one thing to do. Curling one hand around Harry's head, he pushed their lips together quickly.  
  
"That was your own fault, Harry," he muttered quietly before letting go.  
  
Finally, finally, Harry's obnoxious little giggles silenced. He stared incredulously at Draco, mouth gaping open in surprise.  
  
"I don't think he liked it," Ronny snickered.  
  
"But I'm-" Harry began before Draco pulled him roughly into another kiss.  
  
"Keep your mouth shut and I won't have to do that again," he hissed so only Harry could hear.  
  
Harry's brow wrinkled nervously and he seemed perturbed.  
  
"I know why he doesn't like it," Ronny announced sagely. "You're too rough. Be gentle, go slow. Use your tongue."  
  
Some part of Draco was mildly disgusted by Ronny's apparently voyeuristic intentions. But the larger part of him just wanted to save his honor by proving what a fabulous kisser he truly was.  
  
"Oh, I'll use tongue," he proclaimed, to Ronny's delight and Harry's discomfort.  
  
Twisting his hands gently in Harry's dark locks, Draco leaned forward. Lips connected softly and delicately. Draco allowed his tongue to slither forward and ever so gently protrude into Harry's mouth. He stroked Harry's tongue with his own. Soon, he felt Harry relax into the kiss and begin to shyly move his own tongue against Draco's. After a few seconds more, Draco pulled back slowly.  
  
Harry was flushed, whether with passion or embarrassment Draco didn't know. But it didn't matter because now both Ronny and Harry were fully aware of his kissing prowess. No one could possibly say Harry hadn't enjoyed that kiss.  
  
"He liked that one, don't you think?"  
  
Ronny giggled, and Harry looked away awkwardly.  
  
"Did you like it, Harry?" Ronny asked knowingly.  
  
Harry didn't respond immediately, and Draco was afraid he might say "no." That would definitely make Ronny suspicious again.  
  
"Well I-" Harry finally began.  
  
_Idiot. Harry, don't blow this.  
_  
"Of course he did," Draco declared, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him up onto his feet. He had to get his drunken companion out of the room before Harry revealed something he shouldn't.  
  
"Where are you going?" Ronny demanded.  
  
Draco could think of only respond. "After a kiss like that? To our bedroom, of course."

* * *

Harry watched as his blond companion shut the door behind them and glared maliciously. Apparently Harry had done something wrong.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry said drunkenly. Maybe he hadn't been supposed to kiss Draco back?  
  
The Slytherin only glared.  
  
"Look, Drake- I mean, Draco- no, yes..." Harry trailed off in confusion. "I forget what to call you," he offered lamely.  
  
"Draco Malfoy," the blond offered.  
  
"Draco," Harry latched onto the name with relief. "What did I do."  
  
"You almost let him know we aren't actually together!" Draco accused.  
  
"I don't remember that," Harry said softly.  
  
Was he too drunk to remember what he'd done or was Draco so drunk he was making things up?  
  
"Well you did!" Draco snapped.  
  
Harry felt bad. Draco had made him feel very good with that nice kiss earlier, and now he had done something to hurt him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said miserably. "Tell me how to make it better, and I'll do it."  
  
"It's fine. I fixed it," Draco said, calming a little. "I told him we came in here to have sex."  
  
"Okay," Harry said, and pulled his pants down.  
  
Draco gawked at Harry. He seemed confused. Oh. Harry knew why. He pulled his shirt off too.  
  
"Harry- you know you're standing there in nothing but your boxers."  
  
Boxers. Those must be the problem. And Harry removed them too.  
  
"Better?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"Harry, what are you doing?" Draco questioned in a strangled voice.  
  
Harry decided Draco must be very drunk indeed to have forgotten so quickly.  
  
"We're having sex, remember?" Harry asked.  
  
Draco spluttered. "We are?"  
  
"You said it would fix things with Ronny."  
  
"But. No. I didn't. I meant. Well." Draco stammered pointless.  
  
Harry was feeling very bad. Draco had been so nice to him tonight, even made him dinner. And now Harry had let him down, and this wasn't going to be enough to fix it.

* * *

Harry looked like he was about to cry.  
  
_He must feel stupid being naked_, Draco thought. He took off his own shirt to make Harry feel better.  
  
"Don't cry, Harry. Everything's going to be fine."  
  
"We're having sex?" Harry asked hopefully.  
  
"We don't actually have to sleep together, you know. I just told Ronny that so we could get away. As long as he thinks we're fooling around, he won't know the truth."  
  
"But what if he finds out we're not?" Harry asked in a small, scared voice.  
  
Draco could tell Harry was drunk to the point of total irrationality. He felt responsible; he'd been pouring the drinks after all.  
  
The blond gently wrapped his arms around Harry in a comforting hug. "He won't find out," he promised.  
  
"But the lock is broken," Harry protested. "What if he sees?"  
  
_Hmmm. Harry did have a point._  
  
The dark haired boy slipped his hands gently into Draco's hair and tugged him into a soft kiss. One hand found its way to Draco's chest where it rubbed over him in slow, tantalizing circles.  
  
_Harry definitely had a point.  
_  
Draco reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. "You're right," he said. "There's no way out of it. We need to have sex."  
  
Harry happily tugged Draco's pants down before steering them both onto the waiting bed. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to J. K. Rowling. The characters in this story belong to her.

CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
Draco woke up cold and hung over. He also seemed to be lying naked in bed with someone.  
  
"Harry!" he exclaimed indignantly as he sat up swiftly and reached for his jeans.  
  
"Hmmm?" the sleepy boy muttered.  
  
"What the hell, Har- Potter!"  
  
"What?" A green eye blinked open reluctantly. "Oh my God!" And Harry too was struggling into his jeans.  
  
"Calm down," Draco ordered him with irritation.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Draco resented the accusing note in Harry's voice.  
  
"You stripped naked and convinced me to sleep with you," Draco explained compactly. His memories of the previous night were blurry, but he definitely remembered a completely nude Harry arguing that they needed to have sex.  
  
"Really?" Harry asked cautiously.  
  
Draco smirked. "Don't you remember anything?"  
  
"Kinda. I remember you kept kissing me in the living room. And then I remember we were in here, and you were – _doing things_ – to me. I just don't know how we got here."  
  
Draco himself wasn't too clear on all the details, so he merely shrugged helplessly.  
  
"We could ask Ronny," he suggested wickedly, and Harry paled.  
  
"Ronny! Oh God."  
  
"What?"  
  
"We didn't, you know, do anything in front of him, did we?" Harry looked sick.  
  
Memories were coming back slowly. "We kissed, I think. Yeah. We were trying to prove we were really a couple. So we started doing stuff."  
  
"_Stuff?"_ Harry asked in shrilly, scandalized tones.  
  
Draco smirked at Harry's discomfort. "Only kissing, I think." Another memory hit him and he snorted disdainfully. "Then we came in here. And you were afraid Ronny would know we were faking everything unless we slept together."  
  
"Oh." This seemed to fit in with Harry's own recollections because he ended the accusing glare he had been directing towards Draco.  
  
"So, then. Time for breakfast and work?" Draco questioned cheerfully.  
  
The Slytherin was perfectly content. The sex had been Harry's idea, and Harry now regretted it. And as long as Harry Potter was upset at his own stupidity, Draco could be in a good mood. Oh yes, sleeping with Potter had been a personal sacrifice. But the scandalized look on his bedmate's face made everything worthwhile.  
  
The disheveled Gryffindor followed Draco to the kitchen where they greeted a gently grinning Ronny.  
  
"Nice night?" he asked devilishly.  
  
Draco was pleased to see Harry pale again.  
  
"Uh..." Harry muttered pathetically.  
  
Ronny laughed. "It's okay. I should have thought to bring earplugs."  
  
Harry turned bright red, and Draco smirked at him amusedly.  
  
"Pick some up before tonight," Draco advised, gleefully watching Harry squirm with embarrassment.


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copywrited to J. K. Rowling. The characters in this story are hers.

CHAPTER NINE  
  
Harry Potter was having a very bad day. Repressed memories from the night before were slowly flooding back to him, and with each new recollection Harry winced in new embarrassment. Harry had performed unspeakably intimate acts on the body of his onetime nemesis. And worse, he had actually enjoyed it.  
  
Perhaps he was gay after all.  
  
Calmly hiding in the solitude of his office, Harry was able to process his thoughts. He had to admit last night was enjoyable. And Draco was a big part of the fun. The blond was attractive, alluring, _sexy_. And Harry was smitten.  
  
Harry sat down uneasily at his desk and weakly dropped his head into his hands. He was stupid for getting drunk and stupid for enjoying sex with a guy. But mostly he was stupid for developing feelings for his longtime adversary.  
  
"Of all people, him," he growled angrily at himself. "Of all people, God, oh God - Draco," he groaned with dismay.  
  
"I love it when you moan my name."  
  
Harry's head shot up. Seeing the object of his contemplating lounging casually in the doorframe, Harry flushed hot red.  
  
Draco smirked at the blush. "Have I got you all hot and bothered, Potter?"  
  
"Of course not." Harry looked away.  
  
Draco made an ambiguous tsk-ing sound and perched delicately on the edge of Harry's desk.  
  
"We need to talk," Harry said.  
  
"I know. That's why I'm here."  
  
"Last night-"  
  
"We were drunk," Draco interrupted. "And I'll only have to sleep in your room another night or two, then Ronny will be gone."  
  
Harry panicked. He couldn't very well share a room – _a bed_ – with someone he was falling for without admitting his feelings. That would just be unfair to Draco.  
  
"I – want to tell you something," Harry mumbled nervously.  
  
"Let me guess. You want me to sleep on the floor tonight."  
  
"Uh."  
  
Harry didn't know how to put this into words. He wanted Draco to know but to see that this was no big deal. Nothing Harry wouldn't get over. And hopefully get over soon.  
  
"Actually," Harry began again. "I just thought, to be fair and all, seeing as we're sharing a room and stuff, that really I should tell you."  
  
"Yes?" Draco seemed amused.  
  
"Well."  
  
"Am I on the floor or not, Potter?"  
  
"I may have feelings for you," Harry said quickly, and blushed. "Really little feelings," he added in defense.  
  
"So _you'll _be on the floor, then?" Draco asked conversationally, and walked out.

* * *

_Really little feelings? What the hell does that mean?_ Draco puzzled angrily. _Either the idiot has feelings or he doesn't._  
  
Draco was not surprised that Harry was developing an emotional attachment. After a night in the sack with a sex god like himself, what self-respecting Gryffindor wouldn't?  
  
"Alright, Draco, that's enough!"  
  
Draco turned to see that his dark hair companion had followed him out of the office.  
  
"Sweetie, I really don't like when you call me Draco. That's a terrible nickname," he hissed indignantly.  
  
But Harry was too furious to be bothered. "Can it. No one else can here us."  
  
Harry was probably right. Draco's co-workers stood on the other side of the cafe and could not overhear any of this.  
  
"Just keep it down," Draco finally snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you?"  
  
"Ever since you've gotten here, you've done nothing but walk over me. You need a job, a place to stay – I give them to you. You need to create a story about being my boyfriend – and I go along with it, too. But I'm sick of you acting this way!"  
  
"What way? I can't un-be your boyfriend, Potter."  
  
"Not that." Harry seemed near tears, but whether from anger or distress, Draco couldn't tell.  
  
"What then?" Draco indifferently held up one hand to examine his perfect nails.  
  
Harry viciously snatched his hand down.  
  
"I only wanted to tell you what I'm feeling, just so you know. I didn't expect you to return the sentiment. But God, Draco, you have no right to just leave, to just – garrr!" Harry trailed off in a growl of frustration.  
  
"Why, Potter, what a ghastly display of emotion," Draco drawled serenely. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to get so flustered in public?"  
  
"This is what I'm talking about!" the Gryffindor yelled with new vigor.  
  
A few patrons of the cafe turned at the outburst. Draco offered them a winning smile and shoved Harry roughly back to the office. For good measure, Draco slammed the door behind him.  
  
"Well we're even now he," the Slytherin snarled viciously. "You've embarrassed me in public. Good job, Potter. Very mature of you."  
  
Outrage swept over the other boy's face. "Mature? You have the audacity to tell me about maturity when I've done nothing but give in to your every childish whim since you got here!"  
  
Draco was indignant. How dare anyone call his whims childish?  
  
The blond began to say some scathing remark, but a gnawing voice in the back of his head told him to stop. Did Harry really feel he was being taken advantage of? Did Harry truly believe Draco owed him something?  
  
"I'll cook dinner again tonight," Draco offered lamely. What else could he do for Harry?  
  
Harry did not seem mollified. When he spoke, his voice was even and cold. "If we're going to continue this whole dating charade, then I want a few things from you. Ground rules. I should have thought of this sooner."  
  
Amusing. Harry setting down rules like an angry parent.  
  
"Neither of us have ever played by the rules, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "But you especially. The Great Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived. No rule the Golden Boy wasn't allowed to break."  
  
"Fine. I may have broken a rule or two back at Hogwarts, but there was reason!"  
  
"I know, I know. It's okay to break the rules if you're off saving the world," Draco said, trying to sound bored and not at all bitter.  
  
"Are you jealous?" Harry asked softly.  
  
"Of what?" Draco growled indignantly. "Certainly not of Harry fucking Potter, savior of everything."  
  
"It's not my fault what I had to do!" Harry defended. "Do you think I enjoyed risking my life all the time?"  
  
"You're a brave little Gryffindor. That's what you do," Draco snapped. "Risk your life, break the rules, and steal the limelight."  
  
"Look, Draco, whatever resentments there were between us at Hogwarts, can we please just bury them? We're not kids anymore. And if this whole situation is going to work, we need to be _respectful_."  
  
The emphasis on "respectful" was pointed, but Draco chose to ignore the insult.  
  
"Alright."  
  
There was an uneasy pause. Draco cleared his throat in an exaggeratedly casual manner.  
  
"Was there something else?" Harry asked with a nervous sigh.  
  
"So you are gay?"  
  
Taken off guard, Harry paused cautiously. "Yes."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Draco turned and left. This time, Harry didn't have the guts to follow. 


End file.
